


Prom

by Eldalire



Series: In Time Gone By [1]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Bullying, Eating Disorder, High School, Multi, Swearing, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-16
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2018-02-13 08:39:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2144220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eldalire/pseuds/Eldalire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prom week is particularly underwhelming for some of the amis.  For others, it's the highlight of the year.  But for Jehan and Enjolras, the night isn't about dancing and music.  It's about finding yourself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Jehan honestly didn’t see what the big deal was. Prom was just another stupid dance where he would be laughed at.  Why did he need to go?  He really didn’t…But secretly, he loved dressing up and having his nails done at a real salon and getting dressed up all pretty.  That’s the only reason he went.  He honestly just wanted an excuse to wear a dress.

            He contemplated his prom attire as he walked down the hallway, daydreaming as he headed to his locker for his lunch bag.  His mother had said she would take him to pick an outfit after school that day, and Enjolras had promised to come with him, seeing as Jehan has especially indecisive.  He smiled. It would be a fun afternoon—”

           

Jehan’s notebooks fluttered to the ground, all of his loose-leaf notes and little drawings and poems scattering all around him. Brujon, Claquesous, Gueulemer,and Babet all laughed as Montparnasse, their ‘leader’ of sorts, leaned against a nearby wall, holding a scrap of paper in his hand—a page out of Jehan’s notebook.

            “Your beauty is ethereal,

            your face is porcelain-fair.

            Your scent is that of springtime,

            The sun: your golden hair!” he read mockingly as Jehan scrambled to pick up his things and put them back into some sort of order.  He looked up and blushed deep crimson as Montparnasse finished. His cronies laughed again.

            “Aw! Is that for your girlfriend?” Babet jeered.

            “He doesn’t have a girlfriend.  He’s a fuckin’ fairy.” Brujon broke in.  Laughter erupted once again, and Jehan stood up, shaking visibly, and looked at Montparnasse—the one who had whacked the binders out of his arms in the first place.

            “C-can I please have that back?” he asked as bravely as he could, wringing his hands. He was terribly shy, and it had taken a good bit of courage even to stand up to Montparnasse, who was almost a foot taller than he was.

            “What are you going to do, Prouvaire?  Cry on me?” he asked, holding the piece of paper above his head.

            Jehan did exactly that.  His lip quivered and he turned away, leaving his stack of pink binders in the middle of the hallway, running into the nearest bathroom, and shutting himself in a stall, crying hysterically into his hands.

            “What a fuckin’ pussy.” Claquesous said as he ran.

            “Holy shit.” Montparnasse said with a toothy grin, looking at Jehan’s little poem again.  “This is about Enjolras.”

            “Is it really?  Are they going out?” Brujon asked.

            “Enjolras is too good for everyone.  He wouldn’t touch that freak Prouvaire with a stick.”

            “whatever.”

            “I bet they go to prom together.” Babet chuckled.

            “I told you, Enjolras wouldn’t go out with him.  He wouldn’t go out with anyone.  He’s a fuckin’ stuck up asshole.”

            “Bet you ten € he does.”

            “You’re on.” Montparnasse said just as Enjolras passed, holding his head high, paying no attention to the gang as he passed.  He stopped short, however, when he saw Jehan’s things on the floor.

            “Is that yours?” Enjolras asked, looking to Babet, who was the only one of the bunch without a notebook in his hand.

            “Fuck no!  I don’t carry pink shit around.” He tossed back.  Enjolras essentially ignored his response and crouched down, picking up one of the pieces of paper and reading the name on the top, though he was nearly certain it was Jehan’s right off the bat.

            “Where’s Jehan?” he asked, fire erupting in his blue eyes.

            “Why do you think I know?” Babet tossed back.

            “Seeing as all of his things are scattered in the middle of the hallway and Montparnasse, here, is holding a piece of Jehan’s pink loose-leaf paper, I can conclude that you had something to do with this.” He said flatly.

            “Fuck off, Enjolras.” Claquesous barked.  Enjolras sighed and quickly collected Jehan’s things, heading off to the nearest bathroom, assuming that’s where Jehan was hiding. He pushed open the door, greeted immediately by wracking sobs.

            “Jehan.” He asked, knocking lightly on the stall.  Jehan continued to cry, making no real reply. “It’s alright, Jehan. Let me in?” he asked, sliding Jehan’s things under the door.  The lock released and Enjolras peeked around the swinging door.  Jehan stood up and fell into Enjolras, who held him and rubbed his back. “What happened?”

            “Nothing.” He replied quietly, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his pink jumper.

            “Just ignore them, Jehan.  They’re just jealous of  you.”

            “Why would they be jealous of me?”

            “You’re cuter than they are.” Enjolras smiled, taking out Jehan’s ruined braid and re-doing it, replacing the flowers he had woven in. “Come on.  It’s lunch.”  Jehan nodded and picked up his things.  “Let’s put this stuff in your locker.”

 

—o0o—

 

            “Don’t you have a lunch, Enjolras?” Jehan asked as they walked, swinging his own floral lunch bag as he walked.

            “Nah. It’s in my locker. I’m not hungry.” He explained, crossing his arms over his midsection.  Jehan looked concerned.

            “You should eat at least a little something.”

            “No I’m fine.” Jehan dropped the subject.  They walked into the lunch room together and sat with their friends, Joly, Bossuet, and Courfeyrac, who were already at the table.

            “You okay, Jehan?” Joly asked, poking at his peanut butter sandwich. “Your nose is all red.”

            “Yes I’m alright.” He replied with a little smile, sitting next to Enjolras.

            “Do I have to beat the shit out of someone for you?” Bossuet asked. Bossuet was on the wrestling team, and could beat just about anyone.

            “No that’s alright.” Jehan cooed, taking his own lunch out of his bag: a cucumber sandwich and a small container of kale and carrots, with a bag of macaroons for desert.  He offered half of his sandwich to Enjolras, who refused.

            “Was it Montparnasse again?” Courfeyrac asked, dipping his grilled cheese into a cup of tomato soup.  He always bought lunch from the cafeteria on Fridays.

            “It’s fine.  Don’t worry about me.” Jehan said with a smile. 

            “Aren’t you eating, Enjolras?” Bossuet asked.

            “Nah I’m not hungry.” He replied.  Bossuet shrugged.  Courfeyrac looked slightly nervous, but said nothing.

            “Have you gotten a prom date yet, anyone?” Courfeyrac asked. Courf was a complete flirt, and lots of the girls liked him. 

            “I’m going alone, I think.” Bossuet explained.  “Too much work finding a date.  I don’t really care that much.”

            “I’m going with Musichetta.” Joly said with a smile.

            “She’s nice!” Enjolras smiled.

            “What about you, Courfeyrac, who are you going with?” Jehan asked.

            “Cecilia Cherbourg.” He replied with a snide grin.

            “Ooohhh going after the popular girls, huh?” Bossuet chuckled.

            “Did you ask her, or did she ask you?” Joly asked.

            “I asked her.  And she said yes right away.”

            “Nice. She’s pretty.” Bossuet added.

            “And mean.” Jehan whispered to Enjolras under his breath.  Enjolras nodded to him discreetly.

            “Only incredibly pretty.  I have to pick up my tux this weekend.” Courfeyrac continued.

            “What about you, Enjolras?  Who are you going with?” Joly continued, looking to Enjolras.

            “Nobody. Well…Jehan and I are going…but just as friends.” He added quickly, blushing slightly.

            “Bossuet, you can come with us if you’d like.” Jehan offered with a smile.

            “A ride would be nice.” He admitted.

            “I’m driving.  My dad is letting me take the car for the night.” Enjolras said.

            “Nice. Wait, he’s letting you take out the Porsche?  The Panamera?” Bossuet asked, his eyes wide.  Enjolras nodded.

            “Yeah. Why?” he asked. He couldn’t understand why Bossuet was so impressed.

            “That car is worth more than my dad makes in a year of work.” He said with a smile. Courfeyrac chuckled.

            “Rich kids.” He said, looking to Enjolras and Jehan.

            “Well, I have to get to French Lit a little early.  Mr. Corinth gave me an 86 on my last paper, and I’d like to know why.” Enjolras said, standing.

            “Enjolras, you don’t fight an 86.  You smile and show your friends how smart you are.” Bossuet said with a chuckle.

            “No. I deserved a better grade. Want to come with me, Jehan? Get to class a little early?”

            “I’ll stay here.  Thanks, though.” Jehan said with a smile.  Enjolras left the cafeteria.

            “He hasn’t brought lunch for two weeks now.” Courfeyrac said in a hushed tone.

            “He said he wasn’t hungry.” Jehan noted.  “Maybe he has a big breakfast.”

            “Maybe he has no breakfast.” Bossuet speculated.  “He’s lost weight.  You can tell.”

            “You’re in his phys. ed. class.  Does he look bad?” Joly asked Bossuet.

            “He’s skinny.” Bossuet admitted. 

            “He’s always been sort of small…” Jehan shrugged, though he was worried. He didn’t want to believe that there was something wrong with Enjolras.

            “If he doesn’t bring lunch by prom, I’m going to tell the nurse, I think…” Courfeyrac said. 

            “Yeah. Yeah that’s a good plan.” Bossuet agreed.  “He might get mad if there isn’t anything wrong, but at least we’ll know.”  There was a collective nod as the bell rang.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is just a baby chapter because it doesn't fit with the first chapter or chapter three...It has to be here, but it's just a little baby chapter. I hope you like it anyhow! <3

That afternoon, Mrs. Prouvaire picked up Enjolras and Jehan and drove them to the mall.  
“What are you going to wear, Jehan? Are you buying a tux?” Enjolras asked. He didn’t have to worry about renting a tuxedo. He already had one from numerous weddings and other social gatherings his parents dragged him to. Jehan shrugged.  
“I don’t want a tuxedo…I don’t know what to wear.” He replied.  
“Get whatever you feel like, sweetie.” Mrs. Prouvaire smiled.  
Jehan had been different for as long as he was alive, and Mr. and Mrs. Prouvaire made sure that they were always supportive of him, no matter what. From freshman year to early junior year, Jehan had worn almost exclusively clothes meant for girls. He had taken a liking to dresses, and wore one almost every day. Most of their classmates legitimately thought he was a girl, and Jehan didn’t mind. The trouble started when people began to realize that he was, in fact, a he. Montparnasse made sure to spread the word as soon as he realized, and soon, everyone was mocking Jehan. That was when he went from sunny, girlish clothes to more of a bohemian style—avoiding dresses but keeping up his floral aesthetic. He was still made fun of, but at least he was able to stay true to himself. He quietly prided himself on his awkwardness, and was trying to strike a medium between ‘charmingly odd’ and ‘please don’t make fun of me’. It was proving difficult.  
“You said you wanted a dress. Get a dress if you want.” Enjolras said with a smile.  
“Montparnasse will—”  
“Who cares what Montparnasse things? He’s a jerk. Ignore him. If you want to wear a dress, you wear a dress, Jehan.” Jehan shrugged with a meek smile and a blush.  
“That one’s nice.” He smiled at a dress in the window of a store.  
“Free People. Your favorite.” Mrs. Prouvaire smiled.  
“That one? The white one?” Enjolras asked. Jehan nodded. “Go try it on then!” he added. Jehan walked into the store shyly and took one of the dresses off of the rack; an extra small—Jehan was very tiny.  
“Should I try it on?” he asked.  
“Of course you should!” Mrs. Prouvaire smiled. Jehan grinned meekly and scurried off to the dressing room. Mrs. Prouvaire looked to Enjolras.  
“Do you think he’ll be made fun of?” she asked. Enjolras looked down for a moment before nodding.  
“I don’t want to lie…people will laugh. But who cares? I’ll be there. Joly and Bossuet and Courfeyrac will be there. We’ll make sure he’s happy.” He smiled.  
“Thank you, Enjolras. It means so much to him that you support him. He’s in a…a tough spot. I don’t want to say he’s confused, but…I don’t know. I just want him to be happy.” Enjolras shrugged, blushing and looking away. He was questioning his own identity, but he dared not tell his parents. The Prouvaire’s were accepting and supportive. Enjolras’ parents wanted the ideal child: the jock, the debate team captain, the valedictorian, the prom king, the popular boy all the girls wanted to date. The problem was, Enjolras wasn’t interested…At least not in girls.  
“Are you alright, Enjolras?” Mrs. Prouvaire asked. Enjolras shook himself from his thoughts. He debated momentarily on whether or not to tell Jehan’s mother about the doubts and concerns he was having about himself…  
“Mrs. Prouvaire, is Jehan…gay?” he asked, trying to create a conversation.  
“I don’t know.” She replied. “If I had to guess, I’d say that he is. He’s never had a girlfriend…But then again, he hasn’t ever had a boyfriend either. Maybe he just isn’t interested. Whatever makes him happy makes me happy.” She smiled. “Why do you ask?”  
“I…I was just wondering…”  
“What about you, Enjolras? Have you ever had a girlfriend?” she asked with a warm smile. Enjolras shook his head.  
“No.” he blushed, and Mrs. Prouvaire saw where he was trying to steer the conversation.  
“You know you can tell me anything you need to, Enjolras. I won’t tell your parents if you don’t want me to.” Enjolras looked away.  
Before he decided whether or not to answer, Jehan stepped out from behind the curtain, a broad smile on his fair, freckly face.  
“Do you like it?” he asked, turning around, inspecting the dress.  
It was a pale creamy color, nearly white, and came down just past his knees in a few ruffle-y layers. The back was open and tied at the top. Enjolras grinned.  
“I think it looks wonderful.” Mrs. Prouvaire smiled, giving Jehan a hug. “But it doesn’t matter much what I think. Do you like it?” she asked. Jehan nodded.  
“That was easy.” Enjolras said with a smile.


	3. Chapter 3

            “I’m not sure about this, Enjolras…” Jehan said as he followed Enjolras into the dance hall at the local country club.  “Maybe we should just go do something else.” The music pounded, making his eardrums ring.  He and Enjolras had been sitting in the foyer of the dance hall for the past hour. Jehan was nervous and didn’t want to go into the main room, so Enjolras sat with him on one of the sofas in the entryway until he was ready to go in.

            “It’s alright.  Don’t worry. Look, Joly and Musichetta are here, and so are Bossuet and Courf and Cecilia.” He walked over to the table in the back of the room.  Jehan followed meekly and sat down quietly, running his thumb over his manicured fingernails; they were painted a pretty pale blue to match the sequins at the hems of his dress.

            “Hey guys!” Bossuet said with a smile.  Joly grinned and Musichetta stood up and gave Enjolras a hug before he could sit down.

            “Wow, Joly, you hang out with some pretty good looking people.” She said, giving Enjolras a smirk.  He rolled his eyes.

            “You’ve met me before, Musichetta.” He replied with a smile.

            “Doesn’t mean you’re not handsome.” She said brazenly.  “And who’s this cutie?” she asked, looking to Jehan. Musichetta went to a private, all girls school, and met Joly at the local movie theatre. She had accidentally knocked the popcorn bucket out of his hands, and paid for a movie to make up for it. They were fast friends, and soon started dating.  “Are you going out with Enjolras?” she asked.  Jehan shook his head and seemed to shrink into himself.  He had never met Musichetta before.

            “That’s Jehan.  He’s just here with Enjolras for fun.  They’re not dating.” Courfeyrac explained.  Cecelia looked Jehan over for a moment before making a face.

            “He?” she asked.  Jehan blushed and played with the flowers in his hair.

            “Yup.” Bossuet said with a smile, hoping to diffuse the tension that was growing.

            “Why are you wearing a dress?” she asked.  Jehan shrugged, looking down to his lap, playing with the row of sequins decorating the drape of his skirt.  Enjolras placed a hand on his shoulder.

            “Because he feels like it.” Musichetta replied fearlessly, crossing her chubby arms and shaking a reddish curl out of her face.  “Is that a problem?”

            “No, I just…Is he like, one of those transvestite people?”

            “He just likes dresses.” Courfeyrac explained with a dismissive shrug. “Let’s go dance!” he suggested, taking Cecelia’s hand and pulling her onto the dance floor.

            “You okay, sweetie?” Musichetta asked Jehan, placing her hand gingerly on his. He nodded.

            “You’re a real firecracker aren’t you, Musichetta?” Bossuet asked with a little chuckle.

            “I just don’t like it when people are mean.” She said, sipping her Shirley Temple.

            “Musichetta was sort of bullied in elementary school.” Joly explained quietly.

            “Damn right I was!  And nobody’s getting bullied in my vicinity ever again.”  Enjolras smiled. 

            “That’s ten €, Montparnasse.” Babet said with a sneer as he and Montparnase walked past Jehan and Enjolras’ table, bringing glasses of punch to their dates.

            “Son of a bitch.” He replied, fishing around in his pocket. “But damn, Enjolras, I never thought you’d sink so low as to date the Prouvaire freak.” He added. Enjolras stood up, fire in his eyes. He looked up to Montparnasse, who stood almost a head taller than him.

            “We’re not dating.  He’s my friend.” Enjolras explained in a low growl.

            “Sure he is, prettyboy.” He smirked in reply as Babet tugged on Enjolras’ ponytail. Enjolras swatted him away.

            “Please just leave.  We’re not doing anything wrong.  Just leave us alone” Enjolras tried a more diplomatic approach.  Babet laughed.

            “Oh, you don’t enjoy my company, Enjolras?  Huh.  Seeing as you clearly enjoy the company of other _young men_ , I expected you to like me a bit more.” Montparnasse said, batting his eyelashes.  It took all Enjolras had not to slap him, but after a second and a sigh, he just resumed his seat next to Jehan.

            “Don’t ignore me, you asshole!  Just because you’ve got money and a father who gives you everything you want doesn’t give you the right to tell me off!”

            “Just because you don’t like the way someone dresses or who they choose to spend time with doesn’t give you the right to berate them.” Enjolras tossed right back, standing again.  If there was one thing Enjolras was good at, it was making a point.  He could debate with anyone for hours and never run out of valid things to say.

            “Go sit down with your boyfriend Freak Prouvaire and stumpy over there.” Montparnasse replied, motioning to Joly, who did his best to ignore the comment. He was used to people commenting on his prosthetic left leg, but it still hurt his feelings.

            “Would you just leave him alone and go back to your date?” Bossuet said, the comment about Joly cutting him deep...Though he wasn't exactly sure why... Montparnasse and Babet glared at him, but left, nonetheless.  They knew Bossuet was tough, and didn’t want to mess with him, though they wouldn’t admit it. Enjolras sat down with a sigh.

            “What an asshole.” Musichetta said, holding Joly’s hand.  Joly looked at Bossuet, staring almost longingly at him, though he wasn’t sure why. He shook himself back into reality after a second, blushing. Nobody noticed Joly, though, because Jehan was in tears, his hands covering his face, his head on the edge of the table. 

            “Enjolras please can we go home?” he said in hardly more than a whisper.

            “Aw Jehan, don’t leave now!  Prom’s almost over.  They’re going to do prom king and queen in a few minutes.  Then it’s over.  Just stick it out. You can do it!” Bossuet said with a grin. Jehan smiled meekly at him, wiping his eyes on his hands.

            “Alright…I just hope they don’t come back over…”

            “They won’t come back.  I promise.” Bossuet said threateningly.  Joly gave a little chuckle.  He always seemed to laugh when Bossuet had something to say, not because he thought Bossuet was funny, per say, but because every time he said something, a flutter rose in Joly that he couldn’t contain.  It came out as a chuckle, and Bossuet always smiled in reply.

            “Class of 2014!  Are you enjoying your prom?” the DJ shouted into a microphone.  Whistles and applause rang out.  Even Jehan clapped cheerily.  “It’s time for everyone’s favorite part!  The crowning of your king and queen!  Who did you elect?  Who’s the favorite? Your principal has the answer!” he continued, handing the microphone off to the school principal, Dr. Bennett. He opened one of two envelopes he was holding. 

            “Your prom queen is…..Miss. Cecelia!” he shouted. Applause erupted. People screamed, boys shouted, Courfeyrac was beside himself. 

            “That means I’m king!” He whispered to Bossuet, who shrugged. He was more interested in fishing the ice out of his glass with a fork than the prom court.  Enjolras rolled his eyes. 

            “This is ridiculous.  Who would want to be on the prom court?  It’s just a stupid popularity contest.  It doesn’t mean anything.” He said.

            “Aw it’s all just good fun, Enjolras.” Musichetta said.  Joly chuckled. 

            “Maybe you’ll be king, Joly.” Bossuet said with a chuckle. Joly blushed.  Jehan smiled.

            “Maybe it’ll be Enjolras!  All the girls love him!” Musichetta cooed.

            “It’s not going to be me.  Everyone things I’m a jerk.” He said with a laugh. 

            “They might think that, but you’re drop dead gorgeous.  Like you said, it’s a popularity contest, and looking good makes you popular.”  Enjolras rolled his eyes.

            “And your prom king is…..Enjolras!”  applause even louder than Cecelia’s exploded around the room.  Screams of ‘yes!’ and ‘he’s so pretty!’ rang out, and Enjolras felt his organs turn to lead and sink to the bottom of his abdomen. He could tell his face was beet red by the head in his cheeks.

            “Come on up, Prom Court!” the DJ shouted over the applause. Bossuet laughed, as did Musichetta. Joly and Jehan clapped.

            “Go on, Enjolras!” Musichetta said, giving him a push on the shoulder. He stood up and walked up to the small platform acting as stage.  Cecelia smiled and waved, loving the spotlight.  Enjolras stood, making a disgusted face.  Cecelia smiled as the plastic crown was placed on her flat-ironed hair.  Enjolras was next. The clapping and shouting continued as Principal Bennett reached for Enjolras crown.  Time seemed to slow down as he went to place it on Enjolras’ golden curls. Nobody expected what happened next.

            “No!” Enjolras shouted, swatting the principal’s hand away. The room went silent. “I don’t want this.” He continued.

            “Enjolras you’re ruining everything!  Just take it and dance with me!” Cecelia growled into Enjolras’ ear.

            “No. This is ridiculous. I refuse to be a part of this popularity contest.  Give this to somebody who cares.” He handed the crown back to the principal and stepped off the platform.

 

 

—o0o—

 

 

Enjolras’ Facebook notifications blew up that night after prom.  Jehan was sleeping over, and the two of them watched the computer screen, listening to the ‘ping!’ as a new notification popped up.

            “What do they all say?” Jehan asked, snuggled into Enjolras’ bed, watching a movie on the TV mounted on the wall.

            “um…most of them are along the lines of ‘OMG can you believe what @Enjolras did at prom?!’ or ‘@Enjolras you totally earned the crown!’ and ‘@Enjolras that was crazy!’ and I think I’m just going to log off now…”

            “You stood up for what you believe in, and I think that’s brave.” Jehan said with a smile as Enjolras climbed into the king-sized bed as well, keeping as far away from Jehan as possible.  His conversation with Mrs. Prouvaire flashed back into his mind.

            “Thanks.” Enjolras said, though his mind was elsewhere.  He was quiet for a long moment before sighing. “Jehan?” he asked.

            “Hm?”

            “Are you…I mean…have you ever like…liked someone?”

            “You mean like loved someone?” Jehan asked quietly as the movie ended. Enjolras turned off the TV.

            “Well…yeah, I guess.” He replied.

            “Well, yes.  I’ve sort of loved people before.  I’ve wanted to date people before.  But I’ve always been too scared to say anything to them.” He admitted with a little giggle.

            “Like who?” Enjolras asked.

            “Oh! Um…” Jehan suddenly became quiet, nervous.  “I…I liked Joly for a good bit, but that was in middle school…Not anymore...I really just thought his leg was cool...”

            “You like…guys, then?” Enjolras asked.

            “…yes I guess so.  I’ve liked girls before too…But…I’m not really sure.” He replied after a long moment. “I…I guess I’m a little…messed up, huh?” Enjolras could hear the tears in his voice.

            “No! No Jehan you’re not. Not at all.” He sat up and leaned toward Jehan, placing a hand on his shoulder as he lay down, his back to Enjolras.

            “I am, Enjolras.  I really am. I write all of my notes in purple pen on pink loose-leaf paper.  There are flowers painted on my bedroom ceiling, Enjolras!  I wore a dress to my junior prom!” he bawled, sitting up and crying into Enjolras’ shoulder.  “I just…I don’t want to be made fun of but I ask for it, Enjolras!  I really do!”

            “No you don’t.  You should be able to wear or say or do whatever you want without being ridiculed. It isn’t fair, and it isn’t your fault.”

“Why did you ask?” Jehan said after a moment.

“…I…I asked because…” Enjolras began, pausing for a long moment.  “I…I’m gay.” He finished, feeling tears well behind his eyes. He had never said that out loud. He wasn’t even sure if it was true until he told Jehan.

            “I know.” He replied quietly.  Enjolras froze.

            “W-wait…you do?  I mean, you did?” he asked. Jehan looked up at him and nodded.

            “But…I was still too scared to say that I liked you.” he smiled meekly and turned away. 

            “You did?” Enjolras asked, taking Jehan’s shoulder and turning him back around to face him.  Jehan nodded.

            “I do.”  He replied. “I’ll go home, if you want…I don’t want to make you feel funny or anything.  Or I’ll sleep on the floor or something.” He offered.

            “No it’s alright.  Stay. Stay here.  Do you want to go to sleep now, or watch another movie or something?” he asked.

            “You’re not angry at me?”

            “Why would I be angry with you?”

            “I—I don’t know.” Jehan replied, wringing his hands. 

            “Well, I’m not.” He smiled.  “So…what do you want to do?”

            “Could we just go to sleep?  It’s nearly 2:00…”

            “Yeah sure.” They reassumed their positions, laying down on either side of the bed, their backs to each other.  They were quiet again, for a lone time.

            “Jehan?” Enjolras asked quietly, hoping Jehan was still awake.

            “Hm?” he replied, snuggled into the blankets.  Though he tried to keep it a secret, Enjolras knew Jehan brought his stuffed rabbit.  He had it hidden under the covers.

            “How did you know?  About me, I mean…”

            “I don’t know, I just…Had a feeling, I guess.”

            “Is it really obvious?”

            “No. I sort of just figured you weren’t interested in girls…You’re so handsome, you could ask out anybody you liked.” He replied.  “Your hair is so pretty.” Enjolras smiled.

            “Thanks.”

            “Do you like anyone, then?” Jehan asked, rolling over to face Enjolras.

            “I don’t really know…I don’t think I’m ready for anything like that. Not yet…sorry.”

            “Well, whatever you need, I’ll be here for you.” Jehan said, hunkering back down into the covers and closing his eyes.  He was asleep within moments, and Enjolras smiled.

            “Thank you, Jehan Prouvaire.” He said.


End file.
